Soft Hands and Gross Blankies
by bullets-embrace
Summary: Alcohol never agreed with Kurt, but it seems to make Blaine very happy indeed.   Based on 2x14; how I'd rather things had gone down. Includes how Blaine magically ended up in Kurt's bed the next morning and fluffy post-ep what-ifs. My first Klaine fic!


"What're you doing in here?"

The slurred voice came from the doorway. Kurt lowered the glass of water from his lips as he turned to meet the inquisitive, slightly unfocused eyes of his Glee club soloist.

Forcing himself not to grin at Blaine's feeble attempt at crossing the threshold, Kurt set his mouth into a straight line. "Got thirsty. Why, is something wrong out there?"

Blaine quickly shook his head no as the short soft curls framing his face swayed with the motion. "Nope! I just missed you, that's all."

There was a moment of awkward silence during which Kurt took another swig of water, feeling his cheeks redden as he watched Blaine tug a hand through his hair. It was a rare sight, seeing his usually tightly gelled hair freed from its iron-clad confines like it was tonight. Paired with Blaine's bleary, wide-eyed confused state (thanks to the copious amount of alcohol supplied by a certain Santana Lopez- "My dad won't notice. And even if he does, he has enough booze to drown an Irishman in that cabinet"), Kurt couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for him. As much as he enjoyed being with the Warblers, he could tell that Blaine wasn't accustomed to the art of "letting his hair down"- figuratively and literally- on the prestigious and immaculate grounds of Dalton Academy. Blaine had always said that gelling his hair helped keep him "focused" or something, but Kurt didn't buy it. Despite the senior Warbler's sure air of confidence, Kurt knew he had trouble discerning between how he should be and how he could be. So of course the McKinley crew seemed to be doing everything in their power to help him out on that frontier. And Kurt wasn't going to lie and say that he _didn't_ find the sight of seeing him being shoved away from the microphone by one fabulously drunk Rachel Berry exceedingly amusing.

Blaine took a few staggering steps towards the slightly taller countertenor before heaving a sigh and collapsing his back against the fridge door. Kurt smirked.

"Wait, you're thirsty?" Blaine queried, brows furrowed together in thought, "There's tons to drink in the lounge. Come, I'll show you!"

He lunged forwards. Before Kurt could cry out in warning, it was too late. Blaine miscalculated his steps chaotically well, flinging himself at Kurt in such a way that sent them both sprawling on the floor.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry, Kurt," Blaine mumbled, clumsily propping himself above the O-mouthed boy by placing a hand on the ground either side of his face. The cool tiles felt weird, tingly on the skin of his palms. Then again, now that he really thought about it, his entire body felt oddly quivery. Maybe it was just the alcohol. Or _maybe_ it was just because the boy he'd been crushing on since his first day at Dalton was pinned to the ground underneath him, hot breaths of air mingling with his own as their eyes remained fixed to one another's.

Maybe it was that.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered. Their mouths were only inches apart.

"Yeah?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you?"

"One being totally-not-drunk-at-all and ten being off-my-face?"

"Yeah."

Blaine licked his lips. His vision may've been blurry, but he could sure as hell feel his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest about fifty times faster than usual. Kurt's own heartbeat thrummed against his as he lowered his face down, lips almost closing the distance between the two boys. "Uh... six?"

Kurt snorted, placing two hands on Blaine's chest in a lighthearted shove. "Liar."

Reluctantly, Blaine sat up, still straddling the now upright Kurt Hummel. They gazed at each other for a while, Kurt somewhat amazed and smiling softly and Blaine shifting his eyes around the room nervously. He felt like an idiot.

"Fine. Eight, then. But only because I must be really, really drunk to have kissed Rachel like that during Spin-The-Bottle. I think she thinks we're in love now or something because I've been trying to hide from her for the past half hour or so."

"Ah ha," Kurt mused, eyes narrowing as he surveyed Blaine with mock skepticism, "So that's the real reason you came rushing in here and disturbed my quiet moment with the water."

Blaine looked aghast. To be honest, Kurt loved seeing Blaine so...undone like this. It made a nice change to all those times when Kurt had felt like the clueless, floundering one. A very nice change indeed.

"No! Not at all! Well, sort of. But that's not the only reason, Kurt, I really did miss you!"

Blaine leaned forward on Kurt's lap, creating unnecessary and unintentional friction between their 'lower halves', so to speak. Breath hitched in Kurt's throat, small thrills and prickles coursing through his entire body as Blaine continued his drunken babble in earnest. "Everyone's being so noisy and loud and Rachel keeps on calling me her future baby daddy and Brittany asked me if I ran out of the fruits and berries I apparently rub into my hair to keep it gelled back and Artie threatened to run me over with his wheelchair because he thought I was flirting with her or something and now I just really, really need someone I can talk to like this about anything and I guess you were the first person I thought of."

Cue yet another awkward silence. Kurt merely stared, awed by the fact that he had just spoken around one hundred words in a single breath. Blaine fidgeted even more before pulling himself haphazardly to his feet. "That was too much. Was it too much? Yes it was. I'm sorry."

Kurt stood, speaking evenly and gripping the shorter boy by the shoulders. "Blaine, calm down. You're getting all worked up for nothing." A pause. Kurt furrowed his brow, resisting a latent grin. "Future baby daddy? Really?"

"Okay. I'm sorry. And yeah, I'm scared of Rachel now and I'd like to go home, please."

"What did I just say about apologising?"

"Right, yeah, I'm sor-"

"Blaine."

"No, but I really am sor-"

"_Blaine!"_

"I'll just be quiet now, okay?"

Kurt nodded, placing a hand on the soloist's cheek in an effort to calm him. Blaine shuddered under his touch, eyes momentarily flashing up from the floor to meet his with sympathy. It was all Kurt could do to keep from running a hand through his thick curls, a thought which he reckoned Blaine could hear as he promptly gripped Kurt's hand with his own.

"Your hand's really soft..."

He met the sentiment with a kind smile. "You've held my hand before, Blaine, surely this shouldn't be news to you."

With a low moan of bliss, Blaine nuzzled further into Kurt's palm. "Like a blankie only better."

"...What?"

"Your hand. It's soft like a blankie only better because you're all warm and my blankie's kind of old and gross now. Not like you." Blaine suddenly looked up to meet his eyes, cheek still firmly pressed into the younger boy's baby soft hand. "You're not gross, Kurt."

Kurt stifled a laugh. "Glad you think so or I might've slapped you."

The two boys stood in this position for countless minutes, Kurt cradling Blaine's angry pink cheek and leaning their hips together slightly. Blaine sighed and pulled away begrudgingly, missing the light, welcome pressure of Kurt's hand almost the instant the contact was lost.

"So," Blaine did his best to conjure what he hoped was a seductive smirk, "Your place or mine, hot stuff?"

Kurt blinked, suppressing a howl of laughter as best he could. "You're ridiculously romantic when you're drunk. That was almost as heartrending as the speech in When Harry Met Sally. I commend you."

"You're welcome. Seriously though, can we leave now? I think I need to puke."

Blaine blanched almost instantly, rosy blush replaced by a greenish-white tinge that seemed to instruct Kurt to sling the drunken boy's arm around his shoulder and whisk him back to the Hummel-Hudson household stat.

After they finished bidding the other party goers goodbye (and after Kurt had managed to pry a hysterical Rachel off of Blaine with strength he never knew he possessed), they stumbled out of the door and felt the way to Kurt's car.

"By the way," Blaine muttered groggily as Kurt fastened his seatbelt with a satisfying clunk, "I Googled it the minute I got home from the Lima Bean. They do so get together in the end. I see right through your... your plans or whatever."

"Your eloquence astounds me, Blaine Anderson."

"And your love for romantic comedies astounds me, Kurt Hummel."

"Come on, almost there now."

"But it's- it's so dark..."

Kurt quickly grappled at the wall to his newly painted bedroom, urgently swiping his hand over the smooth surface in search of the light switch. "Wait a sec... there!"

Light flooded the room. Blaine flinched back into Kurt's chest, groaning and shielding his eyes from the offending brightness. Kurt didn't mind the sudden close contact at all.

He rubbed the wincing boy's arm in encouragement. "Don't be an Edward, that is so not attractive at all in a guy. I thought you wanted light?"

Blaine's reply was a mere grunt of animosity. Then he looked up at Kurt with a strongly accusatory expression, wide eyes narrowing ever so slightly and soft pink lips pursed into a pout. "You don't like your boys sparkly?"

"Definitely not."

Realisation suddenly dawned, and Kurt sincerely hoped Blaine was joking when he turned away and whispered, "Well there goes my Halloween costume idea."

Kurt smiled despite himself. "Bed's over there, Dracula. Wait, no don't touch that- BLAINE!"

He only just managed to pull his curly-headed friend away from a set of particularly fragile ornaments in time for his father _not _to be woken up by the sound of shattering French glassware. Blaine giggled at Kurt's stern expression, mimicking his gesture of a finger to the lips.

"Good," Kurt said quietly, steering Blaine by the arms to his double bed. He knew it was stupid but his heart was beating insanely fast; this was the first time anyone would be sleeping in his new bed with him, and that someone was _Blaine freaking Anderson_.

Blaine lowered himself onto the plush quilt, testing the sureness of the surface before heaving a sigh of extreme happiness and flopping backwards onto the bed, arms askew. Kurt stole a glance at the beautiful curve of Blaine's neck, skin pale white against the deep red sheets and pillows before crouching down to take of Blaine's shoes.

"Careful," the reclining boy warned, voice oddly steady despite his drunken stupor, "These shoes are Armani and if I lose them then we won't match at Regionals."

Kurt shushed him, giving his right calf muscle a quick pat of reassurance as he unfastened Blaine's shoes and tucked them safely under the bed. He unzipped his own shoes (leather boots from Topman- a bargain) and clambered onto the bed next to Blaine.

His eyes were shut, delicate lashes curling upwards slightly, lips parted and chest rising and falling periodically with each breath. Kurt leaned up onto an elbow. Now was his chance- he took a lock of Blaine's thick, lustrous brown curls and wound it round and round his index finger. It felt just as soft as it looked. He loved the sight of his hand so near to Blaine's face, how even when the soloist was asleep he seemed to know that he was with Kurt and that he was with someone who loved him, someone he could simply snuggle up with and just _be._

"That feels nice."

Kurt stopped stroking the lock of Blaine's hair. In fact, his whole body pretty much froze. "You're awake?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say something?"

Eyes still shut, Blaine shifted his shoulders in a movement Kurt assumed was a shrug. "Nothing to say. You're here. I'm here. No more Rachel. No more Finn making me feel like a midget. Everything's good now." Short pause. "Please don't leave me, Kurt."

"I won't," He promised, untwining the strand of hair from his finger and resting his hand on Blaine's shoulder instead. Blaine opened his eyes and stared into Kurt's momentarily. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, and then shut it. No words were spoken as he reached up and stroked Kurt's own cheek as he'd done for him.

"Good."


End file.
